


unravel your damage (down to your bones)

by warsfeil



Category: Tales of Crestoria
Genre: Choking, M/M, Minor Violence, Unsafe BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: Frankly, Vicious wouldn’t normally care what Aegis does. Aegis is the kind of person that Vicious loves to watch break under the stress of their own shitty ideals, but lately -- but lately --Ugh, Vicious is so tired of this “friendship” bullshit. He’s tired of caring, he’s tired of dealing with it, he’s tired of the knowledge that every inch he gives these people is going to rebound on him a thousand times when they get themselves killed and he’s the only one left standing.
Relationships: Aegis Alver/Vicious
Comments: 4
Kudos: 81





	unravel your damage (down to your bones)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic contains unsafe bondage, a lack of safewords, lack of explicit consent, and other such trappings, so go in prepared and don't use anything contained within as a how-to guide.

Aegis leaves himself open.

It’s metaphorical, kind of, as far as Vicious can get metaphorical about things -- he’s a very hands on, guns on sort of person, but even he can see it. Aegis keeps his tension in his frame and doesn’t block the hits that Vicious throws at him. 

It’s teasing, with the rest of the group: Vicious hasn’t had anything like allies, much like friends, in a very long time, but he knows how to rib people. He’ll prod at Misella until he gets an elbow to the stomach, he’ll tease Kanata until everything gets derailed, but half the time he says things to Aegis and nothing comes of it. 

Aegis just accepts it.

Frankly, Vicious wouldn’t normally care what Aegis does. Aegis is the kind of person that Vicious loves to watch break under the stress of their own shitty ideals, but lately -- but lately -- 

Ugh, Vicious is so tired of this “friendship” bullshit. He’s tired of caring, he’s tired of dealing with it, he’s tired of the knowledge that every inch he gives these people is going to rebound on him a thousand times when they get themselves killed and he’s the only one left standing.

-

“Is that really what we should be doing?” Aegis asks, one day, when they trying to figure out the merits of doing something legally (Aegis’ vote) versus illegally (Vicious’ firm vote).

“You’re a transgressor now, ain’t ya?” Vicious says, and Aegis flinches like he’s been hit.

“Yes,” Aegis says, “I suppose that’s true.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t still do things the right way!” Kanata chirps, and Vicious makes a face, but leaves the conversation.

He got what he wanted out of it.

-

Vicious punches Aegis. It’s not entirely unexpected, or it shouldn’t be -- the argument had been steadily building for the past few minutes, and Aegis was the first one to lay hands on Vicious, dropping a hand to fist in his coat like it would do a damn thing to stop Vicious opinion.

Aegis doesn’t even try to block it. Vicious didn’t think he would. Aegis drops his hand to Vicious’ wrist, but it feels less like he’s trying to pull Vicious away and more like he’s trying to keep Vicious there even as he bends over with the force of the hit, his breath choking in his lungs.

“Vicious!” Misella says, a hard snap of his name, and Vicious doesn’t let her hit him with the flames. He rolls backwards, and watches with lazy interest as Aegis slowly straightens back up, recovering from the hit. 

“You didn’t need to go that far,” Kanata says, and puts a hand on Misella’s shoulder before she can follow one attack up with several more to succeed in her dream of an extra-roasty Vicious. 

“He was askin’ for it,” Vicious says, and Kanata sighs.

Aegis doesn’t deny it.

-

Aegis eats. He sleeps, he talks. He worries. He still buys things that he likes; he still smiles when he’s happy. By all accounts, he’s adjusted to life as a transgressor, learned to adapt to what he has to do to survive. He has a solid goal, working alongside Kanata for the good of the world or some shit like that -- Vicious tunes them out everytime they get going about justice, but he’s pretty sure that’s the gist of it.

But Aegis still leaves himself open. In fights, he takes a hit more than he needs to; he’s passive a second longer than he needs to be. Vicious watches him, out of the corner of his eye. No one bothers to guard themselves around Vicious the same way they do each other.

Vicious could try to unravel that one, but he really doesn’t feel like it. 

He starts to make a plan, which sucks, because he hates both the entire concept of having a plan and having to wait to put it into action.

The payoff better be worth it.

-

It takes a week, give or take, until they’re back in an inn with enough money to have different rooms. Misella and Kanata bunk together, and Vicious tells them not to be too loud, which flies over Kanata’s head and makes Misella’s cheeks match her hair before she nearly sets the whole place on fire.

“I’ll take the bed near the window,” Aegis says, and Vicious accepts it, flops down on his bed without a care in the world and waits. 

And waits.

Eventually, Aegis moves: he takes off his shoes, strips down to an undershirt. He folds his clothes carefully, following the seams to make sure nothing gets wrinkled, the old trappings of when he was still a knight. He sits on the edge of his bed in the moonlight, and Vicious watches the way it lights him up, makes him burn silver against the backdrop of the black sky.

Vicious stands up and blocks out the moon.

“I thought you were asleep,” Aegis says. He leans back, out of Vicious’ space. Vicious casts a shadow over him, but Aegis’ eyes still reflect gold back at him.

“Nah,” Vicious says. He moves forward -- Aegis leaves himself open; Aegis doesn’t even try to block -- and pushes Aegis back against the bed, pins him back by his shoulders and watches his eyes widen.

“What do you think you’re doing--”

“It’s hard, ain’t it? When no one hates you as much as you hate yourself,” Vicious drawls, slow and lazy, his knees blocked in on either side of Aegis’. “When you think everyone should be able to see it -- that you’re broken and dirty.”

Aegis swallows. He could sit up. Vicious knows he has that kind of strength. Vicious’ hold isn’t that hard -- he’s really only holding him down with the weight of Vicious’ own body, and there’s about twenty different ways to break that hold.

Aegis does none of them.

“You don’t wanna punish yourself,” Vicious continues, breezy like he’s discussing dinner plans. “You want other people to do it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aegis lies, but he doesn’t stop looking at Vicious, doesn’t move. He’s barely breathing, nothing but sharp, shallow breaths that barely rustle the fabric of his shirt.

“Sure ya don’t,” Vicious says, and stands up. 

Aegis still doesn’t move. He lays there for a moment longer, hands balled into fists at his side. 

“Let me know if you figure out what you want,” Vicious says. He offers Aegis a wave as he steps back over to his bed; he can hear Aegis sit up all the way, feel Aegis’ gaze on his back as he lays down.

So that’s half the plan done.

-

It’s a waiting game, after that. Vicious puts it out of his mind, because it’s easy for Vicious to only focus on the here-and-now, on what’s actually happening in front of him. He doesn’t think it’s so easy for Aegis.

Aegis follows him, the next time they all split up: Kanata and Misella are off to find a lead on something they’ve decided is important, and Vicious is allegedly going to a bar.

He doesn’t make it there, of course.

Aegis steps into his space, wraps his hand in Vicious’ coat in a familiar gesture, and Vicious grins.

“What did you mean,” Aegis says, “when you said I wanted other people to hate me?”

“Don’t go puttin’ words in my mouth,” Vicious replies. Aegis has him with his back up against an old abandoned shed on the outskirts of town, but Vicious doesn’t feel too threatened. “I said you wanted to be punished.”

Aegis doesn’t react, for a long moment, and then he lets his breath out in a long, careful exhale.

“What,” Aegis says, “does that _mean_?”

Vicious reaches up. He drops his hand onto the junction between Aegis’ neck and shoulder, lets his thumb press forward onto the hollow of Aegis’ throat. 

“There’s people like me and Kanata,” Vicious says. “We don’t give a fuck what other people think, because we live by our own code.”

“Kanata is nothing like you,” Aegis says, but his voice is quiet and unconvincing.

Vicious smiles. “And then there’s people like Misella, who thinks she deserves to be hated but wants to be forgiven.”

“And what about people like me?” Aegis asks. His eyes meet Vicious’, and Vicious can see how raw Aegis is. He’s an open wound, he’s a freshly-fired gun, barrel still warm enough to burn the skin around him. 

“You aren’t hated, but you think you should be,” Vicious says. “You know enough to know it ain’t how it should be, so you can’t just go around askin’ for it, tellin’ everyone to hate you just because you went and _transgressed_. Nah, you got a mission to do, don’t you?”

Aegis stops breathing. Vicious can feel it when it happens, Aegis’ throat working as air turns to black in his lungs. 

“It wasn’t even your fault, and you know it,” Vicious says.

“I should have--”

“Yeah, everyone coulda done something different, but no one fuckin’ did,” Vicious says. “People die everyday and half the time no one even gets blamed for it, but here you are, carrying the weight of the whole goddamn world on your shoulders and hoping that one day you’ll fuck up hard enough that everyone stops expecting anything of you.”

Aegis’ grip on Vicious tightens, like he might be able to disguise the way his hand is shaking. He closes his eyes, but he doesn’t move away.

“But you can’t let yourself,” Vicious says, because he’s not turning away now. Aegis is an infected wound, and Vicious is the one that gave him the wound to begin with, really, so he might as well be the one that lances him back open until he can bleed it all out. “You can’t let yourself fail that much, can you? So you just cling to whatever you can and keep on goin’, wishing that someone would finally make it so you could _stop_.”

“I,” Aegis says, but doesn’t continue.

“Did you want to die?” Vicious asks, and Aegis’ eyes fly open.

“No, I--”

Vicious doesn’t let him finish. He shifts his weight forward, and Aegis goes down; Aegis doesn’t let go of Vicious when they hit the ground, just grunts when it knocks the wind out of him. Vicious shoves a knee between Aegis’ thighs and presses down on his throat until Aegis’ heartbeat is a hummingbird rhythm under his fingertips. 

“Good,” Vicious says, “because I’m not gonna go around savin’ everyone, you know.”

Aegis is choking underneath him. Both his hands come up to push at Vicious’ shoulders, to grab at Vicious’ wrist. 

“You coulda thrown me across the field by now if you’d really wanted to,” Vicious says, and lets up. Aegis coughs; his face is red, and Vicious is certain the imprint of his fingers of Aegis’ neck will last for at least a day. Aegis is half-hard in his pants, and Vicious can feel it when he leans in, feel the way Aegis’ breathing still stammers.

“Why?” Aegis asks.

Vicious doesn’t bother to get clarification. The answer’s the same no matter what.

“‘Cause you wanted it,” Vicious says.

Aegis wanted to live. He wanted to suffer. He wanted to be forgiven. He wanted to be hated. 

Vicious hates guys like him, who can’t make up their mind. Aegis brings his hands up, presses his palms hard into his eyes. Vicious wonders if he sees stars. 

“I hate you,” Aegis says, finally, and Vicious pushes himself up.

“Feeling’s mutual,” Vicious says, and goes to the bar for a drink.

-

Vicious sleeps deeply, since there’s not really anything anyone can do to him that’ll make much of a difference, as Misella has discovered. This does, however, means that he doesn’t wake up until Aegis is on top of him, straddling his hips and pressing down on his chest.

“You’re right,” Aegis says. 

“Fuck,” Vicious says, because he’s still tired. He slides his hands to Aegis’ hips regardless, lets the tips of his fingertips dig in. Aegis is just in his undershirt again, the thin fabric of his underwear barely a barrier at all between Vicious and his skin. “Tell me I’m right again, I like the sound of it.”

“No,” Aegis says, and Vicious grins up at him. 

“What, you want me to make you?” Vicious asks, and it’s a joke, except it isn’t, really, because there’s a thrum that passes through Aegis that Vicious can see even in the dim light of their inn room.

Aegis, honest within the hard walls of the night, looks down at Vicious and says, “Yes.”

It’s not like Vicious can turn down an offer like _that_. He surges up, presses a hand into Aegis’ hair and lets it tangle. He doesn’t kiss him -- that kind of shit is reserved for people who _actually like each other_ , Vicious is pretty sure -- but Aegis’ head snaps back regardless, bares the long expanse of his throat to Vicious.

Vicious leans in, presses his teeth to the junction of shoulder and neck, and bites down hard enough that Aegis groans into it. His grip on Vicious falters, and Vicious feels something manic inside of him that he’s been putting off for -- oh, a few weeks now. He pushes Aegis back, hard against the bed, and then sits up.

“Stay there,” Vicious says, and he can see the war on Aegis’ face. He hasn’t given Aegis a very good reason to listen to him, yet, but Aegis follows orders by nature. Obedience got him far as a knight, after all, and it’s for the clothes of that period of his life that Vicious grabs for until he snags at Aegis’ belt.

“What are you--”

“What do you think?” Vicious retorts, and he flips Aegis over, shoves down on his head until Aegis is trying to breathe through the layers that make up the shitty inn mattress. Vicious doesn’t have any fancy knots up his sleeve -- that kind of thing is more Yuna’s style -- but he can still tie Aegis’ wrists together with the belt, tighten it until it’s on the border of too-tight. 

He won’t leave it on long enough to cut off the circulation, but Aegis doesn’t know that. When Vicious lets up on him, he hears Aegis breathing hard against the mattress.

“We’ve barely gotten started,” Vicious says, and Aegis sucks in a breath. Vicious reaches down, and Aegis is as hard as he thought he’d be, hot inside the fabric of his boxers as Vicious palms him through the thin layer.

“I--” Aegis starts, and Vicious tightens his grip enough to hurt. 

“Shut up,” Vicious says, “or I’ll give you something to choke on.” 

Aegis shuts up, which is only a little disappointment, because Vicious thinks he’d look pretty good choking. He doubts this is gonna be a one-time sort of deal, though -- Aegis has enough self-loathing to last at least a few years, and he’s not going to burn it off in one night with Vicious.

“The thing is,” Vicious says, almost conversationally, grabbing onto the belt that’s tying Aegis’ hands together and hauling him back until he’s upright on his knees, “you don’t need to say anything at all.”

Aegis doesn’t say anything. 

“People like you are shit at hidin’ what they want,” Vicious says. He reaches out, finds the delicate cloth handkerchief that’s usually buried deep into one of Aegis’ pockets. It’s easy enough to fold over, to wrap around Aegis’ head until he’s blindfolded, even the dim moonlight from the window cut off from his sight. Aegis tenses, and he jerks against his bindings. There’s a second where Vicious can feel Aegis’ panic, feel it sink in that he’s helpless in Vicious’ hands, and Aegis strains against it.

Vicious reaches out, digs his nails into Aegis’ hips and jerks them down until he’s settled partially against Vicious, until Aegis can feel that Vicious is hard.

“Ah--” Aegis starts.

“Careful,” Vicious warns, and Aegis lets the sound go, shudders in Vicious’ grasp and then relaxes. “That’s right. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? If you’re just a sinner, then it’s easy to hate someone even worse than you, right?” Vicious slides his hand down into Aegis’ underwear, takes his cock in his hand and feels Aegis arch against him, head rolling back onto Vicious’ shoulder. Aegis doesn’t moan, doesn’t allow himself that much yet, but Vicious can feel the rabbit pulse of his heart, feel the way his shallow breaths fall out of superheated lungs.

“So it must just be _terrible_ for you,” Vicious says, letting the words fall into Aegis’ ear, “that it’s the Great Transgressor who figured you out, who’s got you strung out and begging?” 

“I’m not--” Aegis starts, and Vicious reaches up with his other hand, shoves two fingers into Aegis’ mouth and presses down on Aegis’ tongue.

“You will be,” Vicious says, and presses his fingers in deep enough that Aegis starts to choke on them, his whole body convulsing with it. Vicious lets up a minute later, because he doesn’t particularly care to make Aegis throw up on the sheets, and Aegis coughs in the absence.

Vicious has fucked in his time. Quite a bit, actually, and certainly more than Aegis, who might as well be a blushing virgin with how well he gives in to Vicious’ control. Vicious lets his hand drift down, still wet with Aegis’ spit, to his thighs. He hears the sharp intake of breath, feels the way Aegis’ dick twitches in his hand.

“You’re a shitty liar,” Vicious says, and shoves Aegis forward again. With his hands tied behind his back, Aegis has to tilt his head to the side, keep himself upright with his own strength so he doesn’t smother into the blankets. “Did you think about this kind of thing before?”

There’s a sudden quietness that makes Vicious think he’s hit on a truth, and he reaches for the discount lube he’s got stashed in a drawer. See: _planning_. Once he’s got it, it’s easy to tug Aegis’ underwear down to his knees. Vicious doesn’t bother to undress himself -- he’ll sleep in his clothes and he’ll die in his clothes, if he has his way -- but it’s easy to undo his fly, to get his cock out. 

“Did you think about other people doing this to you?” Vicious asks, slicking up two fingers at once, because this doesn’t mean anything if it doesn’t still hurt. He presses them in, a long, slow motion that doesn’t do anything to prepare Aegis for it, and Aegis lets out a hissing moan into the bedspread. “Even before you _transgressed_ , did you think you were a failure? That this was the kinda shit you deserved?”

Aegis doesn’t reply. Vicious pulls his fingers out, slides another one in just long enough to make sure that he won’t do the kind of damage that isn’t any fun. 

“Was it a relief when you finally sinned? Did you think you deserved it?” Vicious continues, and he can see every word whispering across Aegis’ flesh, grating into wounds and sores. 

“Please,” Aegis gasps, and Vicious doesn’t know if he’s pleading for more or for less, but Vicious isn’t stopping now. 

Vicious smears enough lube on his cock to make sure that it won’t hurt for him, at least, and then lines himself up. 

“Now they see the same thing you do,” Vicious says, and pushes in. “Everyone else sees who you are.”

Aegis moans, this time: it’s practically a wail, even as muffled as it is into the blankets. It has a frantic, choked off quality, like it’s all more than Aegis can handle. Good, Vicious thinks; he wants it to be too much, he wants to overload Aegis, he wants to press him down until he’s forced to confront the parts of himself he keeps trying to avoid.

Vicious doesn’t bother going slow. This kind of thing is better fast, and he doesn’t want to give Aegis a chance to recover. He sets a hard pacing, pressing into Aegis until Aegis’ breath is coming in pants, his mouth continually open and his hands flexing helplessly in their bindings. When he reaches down to grab Aegis’ cock again, Aegis _keens_ , catches himself halfway through and chokes down the sound. 

“I didn’t help you outta fuckin’ charity,” Vicious says, and buries his teeth into Aegis’ shoulderblades before he says anything he’ll regret. It doesn’t take long for Aegis to come, hot and heavy and spilling over Vicious fingertips, and Vicious fucks him through it, until Aegis is letting out little _ah, ah_ noises with every thrust, overstimulated and helpless.

Vicious comes, and it’s great and all, but the better part is when he rolls Aegis back onto his back and looks down at him, gets a good look at his face. Vicious reaches up, drags his fingers across Aegis lips, and Aegis flinches as he realizes it’s the hand covered with his own come, but he opens his mouth, licks Vicious’ fingers clean when Vicious presses them in. 

“Nice,” Vicious says, which is as close to praise as he’s going to get but he can still see the weight of it impact down on Aegis, the barest hint that he’s doing something right in the sea of doubt that Aegis is constantly forcing himself through. 

Vicious undoes the belt, and Aegis doesn’t move his arms for a moment, flexing his wrists as the blood goes back into them. It’s probably painful, and he’ll have bruises around his wrists, covered by his sleeves. They’ll last a few days, probably; it’s been awhile since Vicious has had to try and chart out the healing processes of normal people. 

Vicious reaches for the blindfold, and Aegis catches his hand.

“Don’t,” Aegis says, and it’s a command as much as it’s a plea; the blindfold is damp, so Vicious just smooths his fingers across it instead. 

Vicious thinks about kicking Aegis back into his bed, but he can’t quite muster up the energy to be _that_ much of an asshole when it’s the middle of the night and he’s sated with the sleep-inducing qualities of a good orgasm.

He leaves his hand there, pressed down over the blindfold, Aegis’ hand still on his wrist like he’s afraid to let go.

He doesn’t wake up when Aegis gets out of bed.

-

Aegis blocks, the next time Vicious throws a punch, and Vicious grins at him before he throws another one. When Vicious insults him, Aegis shoots back, and Misella observes this with a critical expression while Kanata just compliments them on their friendship.

It’s not often, but it’s enough -- Vicious pressing Aegis back into dark corners, Aegis spending more money than he should to get two inn rooms instead of one so he can muffle his voice into pillows. 

“You never told me how you knew,” Aegis says, quietly, in the aftermath of one encounter; he’s looking at the bruises on his neck in the mirror, dragging his fingers across them and pressing down like he can remind himself of Vicious’ touch by the echo of pain.

“Oh,” Vicious says, flippantly. “You remind me of someone.” It’s an understatement, but Aegis doesn’t call him out on it. Aegis looks at the reflection of Vicious, curiously, but lets the subject and his hand drop.

“I’m not going to thank you,” Aegis says, carefully.

“I fuckin’ hope not,” Vicious shoots back. It makes Aegis smile, a little; it’s the kind of smile that makes Vicious wish he had Yuna’s picturator thing or whatever it’s called, because he wants to take that smile and figure out exactly what it means even though Vicious has never had the kind of brains for it. Fucking, sure -- taking a guy apart by his own insecurities, sure, Vicious has learned that over the years -- but that kind of a smile? 

Vicious closes his eyes, lets his arm flop over his face, and remembers being young.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter @warsfeils where all i do is cry about how crestoria has ruined my life!
> 
> as always i based this fic on the very little canon we have + my extrapolations based on, like, all the other tales games i've played up to this point, so there's a 50% chance none of this will make sense in a few months. Who Knows! Who Can Say! Not Me!


End file.
